


Vows

by quietaria



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Blue Lions Route Spoilers, Friendship, Humor, Mild Angst, Romance, Wedding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-13
Updated: 2019-09-13
Packaged: 2020-10-17 15:35:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20623412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quietaria/pseuds/quietaria
Summary: Felix and Ingrid fulfill a childhood promise to Sylvain.





	Vows

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place quite a few years after the Blue Lions route concludes.

-

\--

\---

Sylvain crept up behind Felix and Ingrid, the two of them sitting in a slightly damp meadow, chatting and waiting for him to arrive, with a pile of freshly ripped grass in his arms.

"Hi Felix! Hi Ingrid!" he called, unleashing a shower of grass over their heads.

"Sylvain!" they yelled simultaneously, whirling around to face him, covered head to toe in grass. 

He laughed, falling backwards onto the grass and clutching his stomach. Ingrid glared disapprovingly at him, shards of grass caught in her braid like raisins mixed in cookie dough, and Felix shook his head rapidly from side to side like a wet dog to dislodge all of the grass.

"What was _that_ for?" Felix scowled.

"You know, like in weddings when they throw the nuts and dried fruit at people," Sylvain grinned. "I went to one yesterday."

"Nuts and fruit are one thing," Ingrid began. "But _grass?_"

"Maybe I should have thrown jerky instead?" he teased.

Wordlessly, Ingrid picked up a handful of fallen grass and sprinkled it over his face.

"Bleh!" Sylvain spat out a blade of grass. "Okay, okay. It was fun, though."

"Really?" Felix asked doubtfully. "Sounds boring to me."

"It was," Sylvain insisted. "There was food, dancing, music, and the bride was _really_ pretty."

Ingrid and Felix groaned.

"She was!" Sylvain pouted. "But the best part was when the best man gave his speech and everyone started crying. Even me, and I didn't even _know_ those people. Which gets me to my real point!"

His friends glanced at each other.

"What's that?" Felix asked.

"Felix, Ingrid," he said gravely, sitting back up. "This is serious, okay?"

"Okay," Ingrid said slowly.

"You have to..."

"Have to _what?_" Felix asked, concerned.

"Make me your best man!" Sylvain beamed. They stared at him, and he cleared his throat.

"Ingrid, when you get married to Glenn, you have to make me your best man," Sylvain said firmly. "And if you get married, Felix, you also have to make me your best man!"

"I don't think I'm going to get married," Felix muttered.

"It doesn't matter. You still gotta promise."

"_Fine_, I will," he sighed.

"Good! What about you, Ingrid?"

"I can do that," she said, furrowing her brow. "I don't think Glenn will mind. He'll probably make Felix _his_ best man, so it's not like Felix will get left out."

"Wait, am I your second pick?" Sylvain asked, distraught, and Felix looked a little smug.

"I just haven't thought about it yet," she explained.

Sylvain continued to pout. Sighing, she relented. "Fine. I swear on my name that I will make you my best man, Sylvain." Ingrid put on her gravest expression, straightened her back, and bowed her head with her fist to her chest, until a giggle inevitably bubbled out of her mouth, spreading infectiously to the other two.

His smile back on his face like it had never left, Sylvain wrapped his friends in a bear hug. "That's a promise, then!"

\---

\--

-

It isn't that a part of him isn't still _giddy_ (not that it shows on his face- Goddess, please don't let it show on his face) about the fact that it's actually happening, and soon, it's that _soon_ is starting to become _too_ soon (in other words, _only _ten months away), and Felix is too busy being torn between cursing the ancient rites of matrimony and scrambling around like a headless chicken while pretending he isn't, because that's what he's good at doing.

"Felix," Ingrid calls to him, her brow furrowed in concern. "I'm not really against eloping, if it means you can calm down a little."

"No, we can't do that," he says automatically. Some traditions he's more than happy to throw in the trash, but this- he doesn't want to dwell on why he _can't_ throw this one away any more than he wants to figure out the logistics of cleaning out one of the unused Fraldarius training grounds and turning it into a space fit for a wedding, but he has to do both eventually.

Ingrid sighs, and the reasons they both know too well hang heavy in the air for a moment (her family, his family, or lack thereof, now, Gle-), until Ingrid leans in to brush a stray lock of hair out of his face, smiling at how his haste has made his usually messy hair even messier.

"Well, I certainly don't think this is something we should tackle by ourselves. Battles are fought by armies, not individuals." Ingrid's touch lingers on his cheek, and he feels his muscles relax just a little.

"It doesn't have to be, well, completely by the book, either," she continues. "Why don't we try to make it a bit more personalized? Something that will suit the two of us more, instead of all the usual pomp and circumstance?" 

Slowly, he nods, and she takes his hand, fondly.

It's ridiculous, he thinks, that something like this can get him so riled up, but he's good at swinging a sword around, dammit, not organizing _weddings_, especially not his own, and then he remembers.

"I forgot to mention," he mutters. "I'm going to make Sylvain my best man."

Ingrid ponders him briefly, head slightly tilted, before an amused smile crosses her face.

"Really," she chuckles. "What a coincidence. So am I."

He raises an eyebrow at her, before giving a laugh of his own. "So, you remembered."

"So did you," she points out. "We promised him, after all."

_Not quite like this_, he thinks, crossing his arms, but doesn't say out loud. "I suppose we'd better put him to work, then," he says instead.

"Let's," Ingrid agrees.

\---

The first order of affairs is determining if that's actually _allowed_. Ingrid pores over tomes of Faerghus marital law to Felix's exasperation, until she concludes that one _may_ have the same best man multiple times, but not more than three best men per one wedding. (Later, Dimitri only blinks and says he has no idea why that is when asked.)

"That's besides the point," Felix says impatiently, the stress of keeping their wedding preparations a secret fraying on his nerves. "Can we hurry up and tell Sylvain so that he can actually _help_ with the wedding?"

Ingrid closes the books shut immediately and returns them to the dusty shelves of the Fraldarius library. "You're absolutely right."

Over lunch the next day, they tell Sylvain, who leaps over the table and grabs them in a bear hug. He gets the front of his shirt covered in mashed potatoes and gravy, and, subsequently, all over Felix and Ingrid, but they don't mind, even as Felix laughs that he's annihilating the food and Ingrid pats his broad back while Sylvain is actually starting to _sob_, making both of them tear up too, just a little.

"Of course I'll be your best man," he sniffs. "Er... best men? But there's only one of me... Anyways, I'm just... so happy for you two." While Felix and Ingrid smile at him, he continues. "Uh, I will admit that when I made you both promise to make me your best man back then, I didn't expect you to get married to each _other_."

"Well, we are saving you the trouble of doing it twice," Ingrid says, amused.

"It just means you get twice the work this time," Felix smirks.

"Ha!" Sylvain laughs. "No sweat. Just you wait, I'm going to be the _best_ best man you've ever seen." Once more, he vaults over the dining table, rendering the food inedible once and for all.

"I'm sure you will," Ingrid murmurs, her voice muffled by his shoulder. She reaches for Felix's hand, also on Sylvain's back, and places her own over it. In response, Felix tightens his grip around her and Sylvain.

"Just you wait," Sylvain repeats.

\---

They do, actually, entrust a great deal of work to him, after Ingrid and Felix agree on a _blue, weapon-themed_ wedding, and Sylvain is so alarmed that he enlists all of their former classmates to talk them out of it. Grudgingly, they admit that _perhaps_ Sylvain has a better sense of taste than both of them combined after Dorothea nearly faints upon learning that instead of bridesmaid dresses, they'll be wearing myrmidon garb, so they give Sylvain executive authority over the decisions.

"Just nothing too ridiculous," Felix growls.

"Yeah, okay," Sylvain says at the man willing to get married amidst a parade of blue swords and lances.

He helps them compose the guest list ("I'm not quite sure we need to invite _that_ many people-" Ingrid starts, staring at the scroll in Sylvain's hands already floor-length in size. "Hush, Ingrid," he says, continuing to jot down names.), talks the flower shops and tailors into giving them discounts, and joins them after each long day of juggling Ingrid's knight duties, Felix's dukely duties, wedding planning, and his _own_ Gautier-related business for a well-deserved drink.

The only thing Felix and Ingrid (mostly Ingrid) won't budge on is the feast, and Sylvain knows better than to try, though he does gently persuade them into having a traditional wedding cake instead of a triple tiered rotatable metal tray of carved meats, even if Felix isn't fond of sweets.

"Couldn't we have both?" Ingrid asks hopefully, clasping her hands together.

"... Yeah, okay," Sylvain says again, and shakes his head at the sheer voracity in appetite of the bride and groom (again, mostly Ingrid).

He isn't above delegating some of the tasks when necessary, though, even if he is fiercely determined to make his friends' wedding a success with his own hands. Leonie and Ignatz help him balance the budget (which, in retrospect, might have been a bit of a mistake; Leonie twitches constantly at the exorbitant proportion of gold spent on meat versus everything else, to the point where she's informed Sylvain that she's going to _hunt everything herself_, to his and Ignatz's alarm). Hilda checks over each of the wedding decorations before giving her approval, setting up a makeshift workshop so that she and some of the others can create some from scratch to cut down on costs. Dedue and Ashe offer to help cook up some additional dishes for the actual wedding and the reception afterwards, while Mercedes promises to bake up enough tiny pastries to feed an army. Lorenz and Ferdinand have offered to pick out the tea, Annette scours the training grounds turned ceremonial hall where the wedding is to be held with a rag in one hand and a mop in the other, and so on, until it feels like _Sylvain _is leading a miniature battalion made for the sole purpose of ensuring that their wedding goes off without a hitch.

Unsurprisingly, Ingrid and Felix are both a bit overwhelmed.

"It's truly very nice of everyone," Ingrid says, blinking rapidly. "But, well, to be honest, I had never imagined that things would end up being on a scale _quite_ this grand."

"Don't worry about it. Everyone just wants to be a part of the celebrations," Sylvain assures them.

"We're hardly the first to get married," Felix points out. "Though, it is..." he grits his teeth. "Nice. Of them."

Sylvain shakes his head, patting him on the shoulder. "And I doubt you're the last, but really, the point is that everyone wants to make this the best wedding it can be, so just sit back and enjoy the ride."

"Yes, but it's almost as though we've foisted all of the responsibilities onto you," Ingrid frowns.

"Nah." Sylvain waves her off. "Don't be silly. You're both doing plenty."

Felix and Ingrid give each other a look that says _are we, though?_ and step closer to Sylvain.

"We already had some plans. You don't have to go out of your way to reinvent the wheel," Felix says.

"I am _not_ letting you two exchange your vows by giving each other swords." Sylvain crosses his arms.

"I thought that was rather rom-" Ingrid clears her throat, her face tinged the slightest bit red. "I mean, I thought it would be a meaningful gesture, since we've come to rely on each other on the battlefield-"

"This-" Sylvain sweeps his arm around the empty ceremonial hall. "Is a wedding. Not a battlefield. I realize that you are both training maniacs, but you can do that afterwards. Or ahead of time. Just _not_ during the ceremony."

"Since when have you been so traditional, Sylvain?" Felix mutters. "I suppose you won't be agreeing to our post-ceremony duel, either."

Sylvain chokes. "Your _what?_"

"Oh, I suppose we didn't mention it to you," Ingrid coughs. "Well, we were planning on holding a duel after the vows are read. This area was originally a proving grounds of sort, you know, and-"

"No!" Sylvain sputters. "No _dueling_! What if one of you gets stabbed? Do you really want to spend your wedding with a gaping hole in your body? Ingrid, I thought you were supposed to be the _sensible_ one."

"I _am_ sensible," she says stoutly. "Both Felix and I thought it would be fitting for us. We would be using wooden weapons, anyways."

"I really want to say that, no, that would not be fitting at all, but unfortunately, for you two, it actually is," Sylvain begins. Felix and Ingrid visibly perk up. "But, no. I will _not_ let you two duel each other at your own wedding. Why can't you just kiss each other like normal people and have some cake?" They deflate.

"It's _our_ wedding," Felix growls.

"And you made me your best man twice over, so I have the moral responsibility to force you into making sane choices," Sylvain points out.

"When have you ever been _sane_ or _moral_?" Felix twitches. "And dueling is easier than-" he cuts off, his ears reddening.

Sylvain pauses for several seconds. "Felix. Did you come up with the idea of a duel so that you and Ingrid wouldn't have to kiss in front of a bunch of people?"

"_No!_" he yells, his voice reverberating in the empty chamber. "And there wasn't meant to be this many people in the first place!"

"Well, actually," Ingrid clears her throat, and Felix turns to her with almost a _pout_ on his face. She sighs, patting his cheek gently, loosening the frown on his lips. "Just for the record, I'm perfectly fine with either the duel or the... normal procedure. I'll let you decide, Felix."

"Felix, I cannot let you duel your wife at your own wedding." Sylvain doesn't budge even as Felix glares furiously at him.

"_Why not_," he asks through gritted teeth.

"Just- who _does that?_" Sylvain demands.

"It's proof that we're both strong enough to be on equal grounds, alright?" Felix barks. "That both of us can protect-" he cuts off, turning even more brightly red than before. Ingrid covers her mouth to hide both a smile and a blush.

"You two are so-" Sylvain rubs his temples."Is this how Ingrid feels about us, but all the time?" He looks between Felix, who's avoiding his gaze but occasionally glancing at Ingrid, who has her arms folded behind her back and a tiny smile on her face, waiting for either party to relent.

"Both," Felix says abruptly, still strained. "What if we- do both?"

Sylvain takes a very deep breath and an even deeper exhale.

"... Yeah, okay."

Felix doesn't bother hiding the smirk on his face, and Ingrid shakes her head but mouths _thank you_ to Sylvain.

Sylvain wraps them both in a bear hug again and mutters something about them being _like that_ and _gotta make sure Professor Manuela is on infirmary duty, just in case_.

\---

"Felix," Dimitri says slowly. "Are you al- No, I suppose that is a foolish question. Anyone can tell that you are not alright, but-" He surveys Felix, whose knuckles have turned pure white against his knees. "I fear that you may actually perish at this rate, my friend."

He doesn't grace Dimitri with an answer because he can't muster one.

Dimitri waits for a long time for some kind of response, but finally steps back, resigned.

"It will be over much more quickly than you think," he assures him as gently as he can. "In fact, you should try to live in the moment as much as you can- these memories will be something to cherish in the years to come."

When Felix still doesn't reply, Dimitri groans. 

"Perhaps I should call Sylvain, he's much better at this than I am," he mutters, "If only he weren't split between you and Ingrid, unlike at my own wedding."

"It's fine," Felix finally croaks out. "Ingrid- Ingrid probably needs his help as much as I do."

Dimitri raises an eyebrow. "I... doubt that," he says delicately. "Perhaps a small drink might help? Anything to prevent you from ruining your clothes by gripping at them like that," he adds under his breath.

Felix downs the offered drink in a single gulp and continues holding on so tightly to the crystal glass that Dimitri twitches and plucks it out of his hand before it can shatter and send the groom straight to the hospital ward.

"Just- take deep breaths, alright? I'm going to fetch Sylvain." Dimitri sweeps out of the room, leaving Felix to continue staring frozenly at the wall.

"Goddess, you're even worse off than Ingrid is," Sylvain says, looking out of breath from sprinting from one area of the house to another. 

"How- how bad is she?" Felix manages to ask.

"Uh... right now mostly it's her having difficulties with her dress, which I cannot help her with," Sylvain says dryly. "Thankfully, Dorothea and Annette are way better with women's clothing than I am."

"I told you it would be easier if we could just wear our battle uniforms-"

"Not happening," Sylvain cuts him off.

Felix grunts, his usual cutting remarks escaping him. Sylvain takes a seat next to him and leans back into his chair, stretching his muscles.

"I am so going to feel that in the morning," Sylvain groans. "I think I've done more lifting today than I did the entire time at Garreg Mach."

"Slacker," Felix mutters.

"Aw, is that a vestige of the usual grumpy Felix I see?" Sylvain teases, patting his head. It's a testament to the crushing level of stress Felix is under that he doesn't immediately try to rip Sylvain's hand off, instead settling for a precisely aimed jab at Sylvain's side with his elbow.

"Ow!" Sylvain whines. "You _so_ learned that from Ingrid, didn't you?"

"I've been the recipient of it more than enough times," he answers, still strained.

"We both have," Sylvain laughs. "Hey, Felix?"

Felix grunts again, waiting for him to continue.

"I wanted to thank you."

"For what?" Felix asks, his genuine surprise cutting through his nerves briefly.

"You kept your promise from all the way back then! You and Ingrid both did, even though..." Sylvain looks off into the distance.

"Even though _what_?"

"I mean, you said it yourself before, right? I'm not really the most reliable guy out there, and I've done more stupid things than most people do in a lifetime. But you both still trusted me enough in spite of all that to leave me in charge of organizing your wedding."

"You're wrong," Felix says, after a pause. "In some ways, your sheer... consistency has been one of the most reliable things throughout the years."

"Ah, you mean my flightiness and my fondness for flirting with girls?" Sylvain asks lightly.

"Shut up," Felix says sharply. "_No_, I mean your dogged insistence that Ingrid and I are still your best friends even after everything that's happened, after so much of everything else has changed. If anything, we're only paying it back in kind," he mutters.

Sylvain mulls over his words and finally lets out a laugh. "What can I say? You two _are_ my best friends. That's just the way it is."

"Which is why there's no need for you to thank me, for any of this," he says tersely. "But, still," he adds, frowning. "Thank you, Sylvain."

"Oh, you're welcome, Felix," Sylvain grins. "I'm just glad you and Ingrid have stuck with me for so long."

"Did you thank _her_, too?" Felix asks, only a little sarcastically.

"Of course I did. You know what she said?"

"Let me guess," Felix smirks. "Something about how she swore it upon her family name, so she could never go back on her promise to you."

Sylvain stares at him, eyebrow raised. "You two know each other way too well. You know, she said you'd tell me not to thank you but then thank me yourself, and look what you did."

Felix scowls heavily, his ears tinged red.

"Hey, it's almost time!" Sylvain exclaims, glancing at the clock on the wall.

Immediately, Felix's nerves return to him, filling his veins with cold jelly.

"It'll be fine," Sylvain says, reaching out a hand to him. "Come on, Ingrid's waiting."

Felix inhales, then pulls himself to his feet with Sylvain's help.

\---

Felix doesn't remember much, even though Dimitri's words, irritatingly, keep sounding in his ears. He remembers Ingrid walking towards him, taking her place by his side, remembers seeing the priest's lips move noiselessly, remembers croaking out his vows when Sylvain unsubtly chucks a pebble at his head after he stands there dumbly for a few moments (Ingrid doesn't notice, because Sylvain also flings a pebble at _her_ right afterwards), and then he remembers the fleeting warmth of Ingrid against him for just a brief moment, and then opening his eyes and seeing only her.

As promised, they hand each other a sword, and then they clear away the space in front of the altar to hold their duel, their eyes never leaving each other as they charge at one another, both still dressed in their finery. It's a real duel, he thinks, even if neither of them _win_ (but really, Felix corrects himself silently as he sits down on the cold tile with Ingrid leaning against him afterwards, both of them out of breath and disheveled and _laughing_, they both win).

Sylvain attempts to fix them up after the duel, but they just wave him off, because they prefer it this way, and besides, Ingrid has been eyeing the banquet of meat so hungrily that Sylvain shrugs helplessly and declares that the reception has begun to the rest of the guests, who cheer and begin to swarm the buffet tables.

Ingrid, one hand holding onto a plate, the other around Felix's arm, rests her head on his shoulder looking so happy that he doesn't think he _could_ ever forget this moment, even if he tried.

The guests come up to him and Ingrid in waves, congratulating them on their marriage, and for once Felix has no trouble smiling and thanking them, if only because he also hasn't stopped smiling since the duel concluded.

"I have _never_ seen you look so good-natured before, Felix," Dorothea remarks, twirling a glass of wine in between her fingers.

"Oh, he's very good-natured, even if it doesn't always show on his face," Ingrid replies, tilting Felix's head towards her with her hands on his cheeks. And even then, he still can't stop smiling, even with the blush creeping up from the back of his neck to where Ingrid's hands are, so he resigns himself to burying his head in her shoulder.

The party never ends up winding down, only _up_. His former classmates transform the reception into a _dance party_ and Felix can't say he's surprised, only that it feels like a redux of the celebration held after the Battle of the Eagle and Lion during their academy days. Alarmingly, Lysithea and Linhardt (of all people), use their magic to create _allegedly_ harmless flames that wash the entire room in a flickering hodgepodge of colors.

"If you burn down my family home on the day of my wedding, I swear that I will-" Felix begins.

Sylvain shoves him onto the dancefloor before he can finish, and then Ingrid right behind him. Against her smile, made all the more radiant by the hues of flames cast over her face, he can only swallow and attempt to poorly dance with his _wife_, who is no better at it_._

They also open a few wedding gifts at the insistence of some of their guests (Claude). Ingrid stares at the hand-drawn portrait of her and Felix in shaky charcoal and back at Claude, who is grinning cheekily, and says, in a very level tone, "I will frame this, Claude. Thank you." Claude only pouts and pulls out his _real_ gift, a whetstone made of Almyran rock, but Ingrid shakes her head and makes Felix put it in a frame right then and there.

Sylvain, true to his promise to be the _best_ best man, shepherds them secretly out into the backyard when nobody is looking so that they can finally catch their breath together.

Felix looks up into the night sky, his hand tightly clasped with Ingrid's, and neither of them say anything for a long time.

"I suppose it _is_ kind of ironic that we're here like this today," Ingrid says softly, her own eyes affixed to the stars.

"... Yeah," Felix says, because he knows exactly what she means.

He was never meant to be the one here, holding onto Ingrid's hand, and he knows that, but it doesn't make it feel any less _right_ for her to be standing just close enough for their shoulders to touch, staring up at the same sky.

He wonders what his father would think. The old man would have probably been happy, Felix reasons, considering that he had continued to think of her happily as his _daughter-in-law_ even after-

Felix doesn't know what his brother would think about this, not at all, and he never will. Maybe he would have hated Felix for it, maybe it wouldn't have worked out between him and Ingrid anyways- he was young, younger than Felix is now, and it's always a shock to remember that he's outgrown his older brother. Either way, Felix doesn't know, and all he does know is that he'd rather have had to face the repercussions than have him be _gone_.

"You're thinking about Glenn, aren't you?" Ingrid murmurs.

"So are you," he hazards, but it's not much of a gamble when they're painfully similar in this way.

"I am," she affirms. "Felix?"

"Yeah."

"I don't know how things would have been had he survived. Maybe things would have been very different, or maybe they wouldn't."

Felix makes a quiet noise of acknowledgement. He _is_ aware, now, that it had never been an absolute that Ingrid would have happily married Glenn even if he had lived. It might be wishful thinking on his part, but he doesn't think she would have been _satisfied_ with just that, because her heart has always longed to be _like_ Glenn, chivalrous and dutiful, and not necessarily _with _him.

"I don't think there's much point in dwelling on what could have been, anymore, though," Ingrid continues. "I think I have you to thank for that."

"Don't," he mutters. "I was the same, until I got sick of it. And took it out on everyone around me, including you."

Ingrid glances at him, a little sadly and very fondly. "What I mean to say is-" She squeezes his hand tightly, and he reciprocates. "I'm happy that we're here, Felix. I'm happy that we both chose the same path, and that we can continue down it together."

"So am I," he says quietly, leaning closer to put a hand on her shoulder.

"Regardless of what could have been, I'm happy with the choices I've made," she says firmly, releasing his hand so that she can wrap her arms around Felix. "In no small part because it means that I can be here with you."

"I feel the same way," he mumbles. "But you know that already, don't you?"

"I do, yes," she says, just a little teasingly. "But it wouldn't hurt to hear you say it out loud."

Felix grumbles, but puts his mouth next to her ear so that he can whisper his vows again, this time in his own words. Ingrid presses herself to him, and they hold each other silently.

"Hellooo!" Sylvain's voice calls out from the doorway. "Where are you two? They're starting to accuse me of having kidnapped you both, so I'm sorry to break up your probably touching moment, but could you come back in?"

"Sylvain," Felix groans, exasperated, because he's exactly right.

Ingrid only shakes her head. "Now, now, he's certainly lived up to his promise, hasn't he?" More loudly, she calls back, "Coming!"

"He has," Felix grudgingly admits, letting Ingrid drag him back indoors. "We'll have to thank him properly, later."

"We will do just that," Ingrid smiles. Felix smiles back, feels the imprint of the ring on her finger against his palm, and falls into place beside her.


End file.
